Six

Christine returned to the vacant dormitories and flopped onto her old, small bed with wrought iron head and footboards. She wrapped herself up in her blanket, and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. She was exhausted, and he expected her to return tomorrow! She knew that his strict teaching was for her own good, but she couldn't help but feel he was pushing her too hard. She wondered what the girls were doing. She sat up and saw Jacques across the room, seated calmly. He was watching her. Did he know that she saw him?

"I've been waiting for you," he said. Why? Why would he do that?

"Me?" Christine asked.

"No, mademoiselle, the lady beside you." Christine foolishly glanced around her. She was alone with this man.

"Why have you been waiting for me?" she asked, her voice still hoarse.

"Since the moment I first heard you sing, I've wanted your heart to have as my own," he said. She looked back at him, dumbfounded. He sighed deeply and shook his head.

"I don't want Meg as a lover, I want you!"

"You can't have me, I'm taken," she said coolly.

"By whom? The Vicomte? You paid the guards to ensure he doesn't enter the Opera Populaire." She wondered if he knew of her Angel of Music.

"Yes, by him. I'm angry at him right now, so I wish to not speak with him, but I still love him dearly." Jacques shook his head. He had acted foolishly.

"Have you learned your parts for the new production?"
"Not all of them, I have been rehearsing." He smiled faintly.

"Your voice tells all." He sat beside her and took her hand.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude," he whispered to her. This song seemed to be her Achilles' heel. Every time she heard it, it made her knees turn to water. He leaned forward and kissed her deeply, caressing the side of her face. Little did the two of them know, Jacques Caritier's days were numbered, and the amount would dwindle rather quickly.

Christine pulled from the kiss.

"Don't ever do that again. He's very strict. He'll kill you."

"The Vicomte de Chagny? Don't make me laugh."

"The Angel of Music," she said, and left. She wondered if he knew who the Angel of Music was.

"The Angel of Music thinks he's the Angel of Death. He's nothing more than a phantom, a Phantom of the Opera. If you honestly think he could get rid of me, you are sadly mistaken," he called after her.

"The hour shall see your darkest fears, the Angel knows, the Angel hears," Christine whispered inaudibly.

I do not recommend you return tomorrow. We'll find some other way to rehearse. She found it a guilty pleasure enjoying when the Phantom of the Opera contacted her. She nodded, but continued in the direction she was headed. She found a quite place to sing, and practiced those parts despite her hoarseness. It seemed that as she sang, her voice grew better.

Again!

She sang the lines she was rehearsing again. After many more hours, she had finally mastered her parts, and went to tell Madame Giry that she was ready to rehearse with everyone else.

A few weeks brought the brand new production of the play that Christine still did not know the title of. She was still angry with Raoul, but told the guards he may enter to watch the performance when the night came in two days.

Richard Firmin received a note from the amiable Opera Ghost (or so the Opera Ghost thought), detailing a few instructions.

Dear Firmin,

I thank you for your payment. I assure you, it will most definitely not be wasted. I have only one order that you seem constantly incapable of following. Box five is to remain empty. The Vicomte is not to occupy it. Failure to comply could result in his death, and possibly yours.

I remain your obedient servant.

O. G.

"What did he want?" asked Raoul, who was waiting outside the Opera Populaire for the hopeless chance that Christine might change her mind.

"You are to remain out of box five. That was all."

"That's it?"

"Isn't box five where you have viewed every single play Christine has performed in?" Firmin asked. He found himself wondering briefly where Andre had wandered off to.

"It is. Where else am I supposed to view the play?"

"There's box six directly below it," Firmin suggested.

"What happens if we reject his demands?"

"You and I will live no more." Raoul sighed.

"Fine. He'll have his way this time. I'm in no mood to fight for my life. So tell me about this production," Raoul said, changing the subject.

"Well, it's a classic tragedy. Christine Daae plays the role of Marine, who had just been engaged to wed her fiancé, Maxime, played by Jacques Caritier. In a nutshell, she discovers who the killer is, and the killer kills her in the end."

"So much for a happy ending. Do you have any idea who might have written it?" Raoul asked. Firmin shook his head.

"The author seems to be well versed in what he does, though. Madame Giry says it is the same man who wrote the other play that was performed before this one."

"How are Jacques and you doing?" Christine asked Meg as they readied for the play.

"Wonderful. He introduced me to his family the other day while you were off rehearsing. Oddly enough, he seemed to disappear after we returned. I found him in the dormitories. He's a clever man, wouldn't you say?"

"You have no idea," Christine muttered inaudibly. "He seems like a fine young man," she said to her.

"I'll marry him. I can't wait until he proposes," she said with a smile. "Meg Caritier…"

At least I warned him, Christine thought.

There was no more time for discussion, as the play had just begun. When Christine began her lines, she noticed the Angel of Music in box five and Raoul directly below it. Raoul seemed a bit unhappy that he was not where he usually sat, and the Angel of Music seemed awfully cheery in box five.

The murder of Maxime began. Christine displayed great emotion, as if she had been practicing non-stop with a great tutor for the past few weeks or so. She stole a glance towards the Phantom, and he nodded in agreement. She was doing very well. Jacques was dragged from the scene. He was playing dead. When he disappeared, Christine noticed that box five was now empty. She feared what would happen next. She shook every thought away and continued through the play.

After a dozen or so scenes filled with great word play in the form of song, everyone was beginning to prepare for Act Two. Christine was finishing up her lines at the final scene in Act One. There was a loud scream that Christine knew as Meg.

"No! Why him! What did he do?!" she exclaimed. All cast and crew, Christine included, raced backstage. What everyone saw was more of a horror to Meg than anyone else. There, Christine saw Jacques garroted, hanging from the rafters. His face was a purple-blue, and his eyes were closed. She wondered if the Phantom took the time to close his eyes, or if Jacques was taking a quick nap. She may never know.

Who scorn his words, beware to those, the Angel sees, the Angel knows…